Inmost Thoughts
by PubCrawlPandemonium
Summary: Adrián Aguilar, personification of Puerto Rico, just wants to escape the madness of life and the problems of the rest of the world. While contemplating his friends and family, he meets a girl who offers him a deal he couldn't refuse. However, she turns out to be more closely related than he thought, and her motivations not so benign. "Wh-what did you do! Exactly what you asked."
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. Sadly. Being Hidekaz Himaruya would be totally bitching. **

_Thump. Thump. Thump. _

There was something up on the roof of the train car. A brief glance outside of the window yielded nothing, but he still backpedalled, waiting for the inevitable. His breathing quickened slightly and unconsciously, he dropped into a loose crouch, hands held up defensively.

For a moment, nothing.

And then there was the xylophone glissando of shattered glass as the window behind him exploded, sending shards in every direction like shrapnel. Something whistled through the air toward him and he threw himself into a roll, whatever that had been aimed at him sailing over his head close enough to graze his hair with a searing heat. Bits of glass dug into his arms as he lay sprawled on the floor, but the minor cuts were preferable to what seemed like the inferno that had just blown overhead.

Sparks flew and one of the tall poles that lined the aisle of the carriage fell to the ground, sliced clean in half. Before he could pull himself to his feet, something struck him with enough force to lift him up off the ground and slam him into the opposite wall of the carriage.

Agony shot through him and he heard the screech of twisting metal as the wall dented from the impact with his body. Beside him, another window shattered, filling his ears with the furious howl of the wind. Wrenching himself from his personalized crater in the wall, he fell forward on all fours, broken glass tinkling beneath his knees and digging into his palms.

There was another grating screech and he looked on with wide eyes as the carriage itself was unceremoniously cleaved in half, sending it rattling backwards down the tracks even as the remainder of the train continued to chug forward, oblivious to the fact that it was missing its last carriage. His shock quickly gave way to pain as another shockwave rolled towards him, tearing through the air with an audible crack and snapping apart the remaining poles lined on either side of the aisle like twigs and blasting him ass over kettle through the empty window pane.

Landing with a crunch onto the gravel, he lay there for a time, covered in cuts and bruises and wondering just what the fuck had happened. "Did I lose?" He groaned.

The answer to his query came in the form of a tall, blond, bespectacled young man with a boisterous grin stretched across his face. "Is the sky still blue, motherfucker?" Alfred Jones, his boss, (mostly ineffective) elder brother figure and personification of the U.S.A. quipped.

Adrián Aguilar, personification of Puerto Rico groaned and dropped his head back, accidentally smacking it against the ground, adding to his misery. "Ow," he said dispassionately. "And yes, it is blue. Very blue. So, so blue."

Alfred grinned even wider and folded his arms behind his head. "That makes it _how_ many times I've kicked your ass in our little play fights?" He asked, looking as though his bladder would detonate on the spot from his sheer glee.

Adrián sighed. "Five," he began.

"Yes?" Alfred urged.

"Hundred," Adrián continued miserably.

"_Yes?" _Alfred stressed, eyes wild.

"And thirty three times," Adrián finished.

Alfred pumped his fist into the air. "Oh yeah! America wins again! Man, if this was a video game, I'd teabag you, but since it isn't…" Trailing off, he proceeded to produce a magic marker from the pocket of his bomber jacket and, holding Adrián down with one hand, proceeded to scrawl all over his face with the other. After a few minutes, Alfred nodded in satisfaction and pulled Adrián to his feet, only to pull a mirror out of his trouser pocket and shove it into the younger teen's face. "Behold the masterpiece that I have painted on the blank canvas of your face!" He declared.

Adrián's eye began to twitch violently as he took in his reflection. His right eye had been coloured so as to give him the appearance of having a black eye, whilst his left had several ridiculously long lashes drawn on it, reminiscent of Alex Delarge from A Clockwork Orange. Three whiskers had been drawn on each of his cheeks, which were somewhat incongruous with the Pagliacci-esque tear lines also trailing down from each of his eyes. To complete the random mash-up of designs scribbled across his face, he also had a smiley face drawn on the tip of his nose, an arrow pointing towards his mouth (which had been made to resemble that of a Botox addicts'), that had the directions "Insert bill here" written above it, a handlebar moustache, and what appeared to be a butt drawn on his forehead.

"…You're a real cockass, you know that? If douchebaggery was money, you could afford to pay someone to lick your cat's ass for it to spare it the trouble."

Alfred let out a hearty laugh. "You're just mad that I beat you again. Which is fine…Because you _can't _beat me. You're silly weapons cannot harm me…Because I'm AMERICA, BITCH!" He thundered while splaying his arms wide in a "get some' gesture.

Sighing, Adrián pinched the bridge of his nose, looking dignifiedly disgusted despite his drawn-upon face at the other nation's antics. "Please, don't quote My Way Entertainment. Seriously, if you're going to taunt me, at least be original about it."

"How's this for original?" Alfred said. Several awkward minutes went by, punctuated occasionally by a thoughtful grunt from Alfred and an irritated eye-roll from Adrián.

"Well?" Adrián demanded after checking his watch and confirming that they'd been standing there for ten minutes.

Alfred held up a finger. "Hold on," he said. Then, he snapped his fingers whilst wearing an expression of utter comprehension. "Well beat my dick while wearing boxing gloves, I've got it!" Alfred exclaimed.

Adrián tapped his foot impatiently. "One, thanks for sharing your Friday night hobby. And two, hurry up and say your stupid one-liner already; I think some of this ink is starting to seep into my bloodstream."

"Duck," Alfred said, tapping Adrián on the head.

"Uh…"

"Duck," Alfred repeated, tapping him on the shoulder.

"What the hell are you doing you Peter Parker-looking son of a-

"Duck," Alfred said again, spinning Adrián around in the opposite direction.

"Don't make me sue you again-

"Caboose!" Alfred shouted, running up and punting Adrián in the ass like a pigskin football, sending him flying off into the distance with a smoke-trailing footprint embedded on the seat of his trousers.

As he sailed peacefully through the sky, Adrián placed his chin in his hands, staring at the passing clouds and looking thoughtful. "Oh, because caboose rhymes with goose." He snorted. "Alfred's such a tool." He snorted again, louder this time. "Does anyone even use the word caboose anymore besides octogenarians? Mormons, maybe? Hmm." Yawning, Adrián somehow turned himself around in mid-air so that he was lying on his back with his arms behind his head and his left leg crossed over his right. "Welp, overall today was a pretty productive day. Got involved in a train brawl with Alfred, got thrown through a fortunately broken window, got my ass literally and figuratively kicked, once again had it confirmed that Alfred is an unfunny twat waffle, and now I'm flying." He scratched his head, looking troubled. "Shit that train fiasco is going to cost some serious collateral damages. I don't wanna work as a male dancer again! I always needed like three showers after I got offstage!"

So horrified was Adrián at the thought that he'd once again be forced to don an uncomfortably form-fitting pair of leather chaps in order to shake his good and plenty's in front of a crowd of randy middle-aged women, he barely noticed when he crashed into one of the docks at the Port of San Juan. Until he realised that he was lying in the arms of a burly fisherman who bore a terrifying resemblance to Pop-Eye and whom was staring at him as though he'd just won the lottery, at which point Adrián let out a scream that would have done a soprano opera singer proud and bolted, leaving behind a very disappointed fisherman who would have to console himself with a manatee for the fifth time that week.

X X X

Adrián sat on a park bench in Cañabón with his head in his hands. He was sick to the teeth of having to deal with Alfred, even if the immature nation generally didn't mean any harm. He was sick of visiting Antonio and listening to him getting sappy and fighting him off when he clingy after too much wine, of being molested by Francis, of talking trade with Arthur, of losing at negotiations with Govert, of following Gilbert's blog, of arguing with Lovino, being dragged around by Feliciano, drilled by Ludwig, paired up with men by Elizabeta, yelled at by China for slouching, reading Kiku's increasingly bizarre manga, getting drunk with Matthew over their shared misery of dealing with Alfred, constantly telling Ramon that he didn't know how many flavours of ice cream America had…He was sick of _life_.

Unconsciously, Adrián rubbed his still-smarting ass while grudgingly congratulating Alfred for having gotten him back for the last time he'd snuck a scorpion into his bed. "But still," he said aloud, "I just want a break from all of the madness! Is that so much to ask?!" He shouted up at the sky. The response he received was a drop of rain splashing onto his face.

Within minutes, the scattered droplets became a deluge, the sky awash with churning grey clouds that seemed intent on drowning everything in their path, forcing him to jog for the cover of the row of small shops lining the street across from the park.

"Well, at least the rain's washed away the marker," Adrián muttered as he stared down at the sleeve of his jacket to see it smeared with black ink. Shaking his hair out, he began to walk towards the shops again, only to turn around when he heard a light, tinkling laugh.

"You'll catch cold walking around in the rain without an umbrella."

The girl standing in front of him couldn't have been any older than he physically appeared, anywhere from fourteen to seventeen. The resemblance was slightly furthered by their shared dark hair and light skin, although her hair was so dark as to be blue-tinted and her complexion paler, giving her a slightly eerie not to mention conspicuous appearance. What really disconcerted him, however, were her eyes. In stark contrast to his own bright green irises, hers were a startling shade of crimson, the likes of which he'd only ever seen on the albino Gilbert. Pretty as she was, Adrián couldn't help but think that she seemed oddly familiar, as though he'd seen her somewhere before.

His rambling thoughts were interrupted by her raising her eyebrows at a jaunty angle before stepping beside him, holding her umbrella over the both of them. "I'll walk you over to one of the shops," she stated in a way that made it seem as though she were asking a question.

"Oh, uh, sure," Adrián agreed as he continued to speculate over where he'd seen her before. She certainly didn't look like any of his citizens, to be sure… "Thanks," he added awkwardly as she began to steer the two of them towards the shops.

"Think nothing of it."

They walked in silence for a while, the only sound the wet slapping of their feet against the puddles forming on the pavement. The silence was so thick that Adrián almost wished for the rumble of traffic, but Cañabón was a small area, hosting just barely over six thousand people, and traffic noise was in short supply.

"You look rather troubled," the girl noted, effectively breaking the silence. She nodded towards him. "Care to talk about it?"

Adrián shrugged helplessly. "Well, you know how these things go…Pain in the ass friends, general stress, you know."

"Ah." She smiled, sending a shudder coursing through his spine. "Yes, I daresay that I know all about that."

**A/N: Ooh, suspense. Not really, though. Hrm. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. Still. Damn it.**

"Not to sound creepy or anything, but do I know you from somewhere?" Adrián quickened his pace when a sudden blast of wind blew what seemed like a miniature tidal wave of cold rain water into his face. Sighing, he dragged a hand across his face to rid it off the excess moisture. "I mean, do you live here or something?" He added.

The girl smiled lightly at him, looking somewhat embarrassed and sped up her gait as well in order to ensure that both of them remained covered by her umbrella. "Not exactly," she answered, and it was only then that Adrián noticed her lilting accent. "I lived here for most of my early life, learned English from an Englishwoman, and then I spent the past few years in the states," she said by way of explanation. She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear before the rain could dampen it. "Perhaps you saw me some years ago, maybe?"

They finally crossed the street and stood beneath the bright red canopy overlooking the cluster of shops. There was a diner, a bakery, a bookstore, and a clothing boutique, but it was the first two that caught Adrián's attention the most, the smell of freshly baked goods and coffee causing his stomach to rumble.

"You sound like you need something to eat." She twirled the end of one of her low twintails, looking embarrassed again. "Forgive me if I'm being too forward, but would you perhaps like to get some food with me?" Pink dusted her pale cheeks as she hurriedly finished her sentence and she turned away, twiddling her fingers.

But damn, the thought of something hot to eat was tempting. And it wasn't often that he was asked to lunch by a pretty girl, what with the disparate gender ratio of the nations and his relative lack of human acquaintances. True, she was a stranger, but the vague sense of disquiet that came from hobnobbing with a stranger was eclipsed by her unobtrusive manner. And really, he'd spent enough time thinking; a meal and conversation was exactly what he needed.

Adrián smiled. "That sounds great, uh…Sorry, you never told me your name," he said sheepishly, extending his hand to her.

"Lolita, and no, my mother wasn't aware of the Nabokov novel when she named me, hence why I prefer Lola." As they shook hands, he noted that despite the birdlike fragility of her hand, she had a grip that seemed as though it could crack walnuts.

"Adrián," he said, and subtly shook the numbness out of his wrist behind his back.

The interior of the diner was blessedly warm, the cosiness of the atmosphere highlighted by dim lighting, leather-lined chairs, dark stained oak tables and plush carpeting, all well suited to the exterior, which was that of an old-fashioned stone house. They'd managed to snag a table furthest away from the door, next to an out of commission masonry oven being used as a decorative piece and a lattice light casement window. Every so often, a particularly harsh gust of wind would cause the tree standing near the building to drag its claw-like branches against the window panes with a sibilant screech, which, combined with the bleak grey rain, made for a rather depressing picture.

A cursory glance around the diner showed Adrián that it was almost filled to capacity, the small room crammed with more than thirty people scattered across the tables. Most of them were soaked to the bone, clutching rain-flecked umbrellas and looking none too eager to step back out into the storm raging outside.

Tilting back slightly in his chair, he looked up at the crossbeams lined across the ceiling for a moment before speaking. "Weird. The weather didn't call for a tropical storm today," Adrián muttered.

In response, Lola gave a diffident shrug. "Well, meteorology isn't an exact science. Although if I had to guess, I'd say that what we're seeing now would measure a six, _maybe _a seven on the Beaufort Scale." As if to testify to her assumption, another patron stepped, or more aptly, was blown into the diner, windswept and dripping a steadily growing puddle onto the carpet. Arching a brow, she began to seesaw a butter knife between her fingers. "All right, make it an eight."

After almost falling over, Adrián stopped tilting his chair back. Muttering under his breath, he made sure that his chair was aligned firmly with the wall before turning to regard Lola, whose own posture conformed perfectly to the ramrod straight back of the chair. Seeing her rigid bearing, he concluded that she was either from a high-class background or was nervous around him. Adrián highly doubted the latter, what with her calm, steady gaze. Maybe she was simply so bored with him that she was attempting to defy the natural curvature of her spine for shits and giggles?

"So," he began, "how long has it been since you've been to Puerto Rico?" Inwardly, Adrián winced. _Oh yeah, I'm the textbook fucking definition of suave. Why don't I just ask her to help me alphabetize my bookshelf and fill out my tax returns?_

Lola merely smiled. "Oh, not all that long, at least not by my account, at any rate. A few years, give or take." Her eyes brightened as she stared at something towards his far left. "Our order is here."

The waitress, a tired but smiling woman with brown hair pulled into a loose knot at the nape of her neck slid a tray containing two bowls of tomato-cheddar soup, a BLT sandwich and a club sandwich onto their table before setting down their respective drinks and scurrying away to write down her next order.

While Adrián cupped his hands around the base of his mug of hot cocoa in order to savour its heat, Lola stared with an expression akin almost to sorrow at the pickled cucumber accompanying her club sandwich. It almost looked as though the brine-soaked vegetable had personally insulted her.

"Uh, not to be rude or anything, but why are you staring at that pickle like it's just shit in your cereal?" He asked after he'd taken a sip of his soup and promptly scalded his tongue.

Lola avoided answering him in favour of taking the napkin that she hadn't spread over her lap and placing it carefully over the gherkin, as though she were covering a corpse at a crime scene. "I don't much like the idea of having my breath reek of sodium chloride and vinegar," she said as she cut off a piece of her sandwich with her knife and fork. Spearing it on the tongs of her fork, she dipped it once into her soup, taking care to let any remaining liquid drip back into the bowl before bringing it up to her mouth. Adrián counted exactly thirty-five consecutive, somewhat stilted chews until she finally placed her fork beside her plate and dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. True, he wasn't exactly a barbarian at the table himself, but to actually take the time to fletcherise a bite of soup-soaked sandwich?

As if sensing his curiosity, she gave him a slight grin. "I tend to eat rather carefully when in company. Alone, I can be a downright slob," Lola assured him.

"Oh. That makes sense," Adrián agreed, and took a bite out of his own sandwich. He felt oddly self-conscious at the loud crunching sound that it made, and found himself vexed by the small amount of crumbs that littered his shirtfront afterwards. Well damn, if table etiquette wasn't a contagious little pathogen.

Soon, however, the initial awkwardness faded and the two of them chatted away as they ate. After having realised that they both shared a great deal of like opinions, including the fact that they believed Heidi Montague and Spencer Pratt to be degenerate wastes of otherwise viable semen who should be drawn and quartered, Adrián was forced to admit that, despite her eccentricities, Lola was in fact not only perfectly normal, but quite fun to be around and very easy to talk to. And besides, considering the fact that he was the incarnation of an island, he really didn't have any leave to call anyone else strange.

"This was nice, wasn't it?" They'd been finished with their meals for some time and she was waving towards the waitress for their cheque.

"It was," Adrián agreed as he fished for his wallet. "I'll take care of the tab," he added when he noticed Lola about to open her purse.

She quirked her eyebrows at him. "While that's very chivalrous of you, I'd prefer to go Dutch. It just seems a bit odd to have someone else pay for me, especially when the two of us hardly know one another, is all," she assured him.

Adrián arched his own brow. "I take it I can't argue you down?"

Lola shook her head. "Not a chance." A smile curved her full lips. "Perhaps next time."

_Next time, eh? Looks like I have something to rub in Alfred's face next time I-_ Adrián's train of thought was interrupted by a low rumble. It sounded almost like thunder, but that didn't make sense; tropical storms usually didn't have the vertical winds needed to create electrical fields. Another rumble sounded, louder this time, as though whatever the source of the noise might've been was coming closer.

Adrián felt a wave of dread roll over him as though he'd been doused in ice water. There was definitely something advancing towards the building, something big. His suspicions were confirmed by the floor beginning to tremble, causing the tables to shake and dishes to rattle. He stood up, eyes wide and hands gripping the edge of the quavering table so that his knuckles whitened. Another wave of foreboding crashed over him and Adrián had a sudden vision of the diner in ruins, bodies strewn across the blood soaked rubble.

"We need to get out of here," he said sharply, grabbing Lola by the wrist and jerking her to her feet. Ignoring her confused protests, Adrián began to drag her towards the exit, shouting for everyone else to follow suit.

The two of them were midway to the door when the back wall, just where they'd been sitting a few moments ago, exploded in a puff of brick and plaster. While everyone was screaming in panic and groping blindly through the dust towards the exit, every electricity-powered instrument in the room went utterly insane, all of the lights blowing out and television screens warping into spitting static even as another quake, more powerful than the first two literally rocked the diner.

The tremor sent Adrián and Lola sprawling forward, almost out of the door. They managed to remain on their feet only to be shoved back by the surging stream of panicked people behind them, all attempting to squeeze themselves through the exit at once.

Forced into the direction of where the explosion had occurred by the stream of fleeing bodies, Adrián saw something emerge through the massive hole in the wall.

The first word that came to mind when he laid eyes on the creature was _eldritch_, followed quickly by _abomination_. Nearly fifteen metres tall despite its slouching gait, the thing was vaguely serpentine in appearance, with a flat, snake-like head, scaly hide and a forked black tongue sliding out of its mouth to taste the air every few moments. That, however, was where any semblance of normalcy ended and imagination began.

There was nothing but pasty white skin stretched tightly over where the eyes should've been, a vivid contrast to the bloated purple lips, which were parted into a mirthless grin full of blunt teeth the size of tenpins that interlocked with one another like a zipper and which took up nearly the entirety of its face. The sheer abnormality of its aspect combined with its overly long arms dragging ape-like across the ground and sickle-hocked legs that terminated into clawed feet was enough to make all of the humans clamouring to get outside freeze in terrified wonder. It was only when the thing sat back on its haunches with an audible cracking of bone setting into place, throwing its head back and letting out a sound that could was horribly akin to a gurgling human laugh did they once again erupt into screams before restarting their mass migration towards the exit.

One man, desperate to the point of insensibility actually threw himself headfirst through the display window, tumbling onto the sidewalk in a shower of glass where he lay inert and covered in blood. Panic gave way to chaos, and in the attempt to escape, everyone only wound up getting in each other's way, making it virtually impossible for anyone to actually get through the doors.

That was apparently what it wanted, for in the midst of the confusion one of the creature's arms shot forward, snagging the woman who had taken Adrián and Lola's order. Her scream was cut short by the thing lifting her up to its eyeless face for a moment only to casually slam her headfirst onto the ground, once, twice, three, four times, leaving the floor dented and smeared with blood before casually tossing her motionless body into its gaping mouth.

Dumbfounded, Adrián could only stare in horror as the thing crunched down on the woman's bones with a sound akin to a stalk of celery being snapped in half. Letting out another burbling laugh, the creature lashed its other arm out, breaking off the majority of the diner's storefront.

As everyone spilled like ants into the street through the newly created exit, Adrián was about to follow suit when he realised that he'd lost Lola in the commotion. Cursing, he snapped his head from side to side, but didn't catch a familiar sight of red eyes or raven hair.

"Oh fuck all sorts of ducks," he mumbled. "Lola!" Adrián shouted. "Lola! Where are you?" Someone jostled him from behind, sending him face first onto the floor. "Watch where you're going, asshole!" Adrián shouted as he pulled himself to his feet. Brushing bits of glass and plaster out of his hair, he turned around only to see Lola standing in front of him, pushed forward by another wave of people.

"Lola!" He shouted in relief. "Come on, we have to- Adrián's words died in his throat when, as if in slow motion, the thing moved one exaggeratedly long arm down in a slashing motion, bifurcating Lola at the waist. Her legs remained standing before collapsing in an almost comical fashion even as her torso sailed through the air before it finally crashed against the wall, where it slid slowly down with a nauseating squelch, leaving a trail of blood and viscera in its wake.

By now, the diner was completely devoid of people besides Adrián, who remained frozen at the spot, eyes still fixed on where Lola's upper half had fallen. Her formerly bright eyes were dark and dim in her death-greyed face, bright red irises faded to nearly black and her mouth slightly agape, as though she were still confused about what exactly had happened. As if to add insult to injury, the creature picked up one of her severed legs and tossed it past it's distended purple lips, all while letting out another damnable guffaw.

Adrián collapsed against the wall, half sliding as his body slanted to the side. The rough bricks dug into his back and he was dimly aware of something warm squelching against his shirt _(Lola's blood? Intestines? Both?) _Part of him, the part that was screaming at him to pick his ass off the floor and run, was wondering just why he was so affected. He'd been through multiple wars, had seen the essential genocide of his native people. So why was he so dismayed at the death of a girl that he'd known for all of two hours? The sensitive half of him, the _human _half, quietly told him it was because she'd reminded him of his mother. Quiet, unassuming, sympathetic…They'd even somewhat resembled one another. Lola had been a nice girl, a decent girl, someone who'd taken the time out of her day to talk to a stranger, who'd lent an ear to his complaints and it'd gotten her a death remarkably similar to Mother Taino's: Slashed in two, with her innards spilling onto the ground and shock written all over her face.

He heard the wail of sirens in the background, the rumble of frenzied chatter as people gave their testimonies to police, and still all he could think about was his mother's face, rotted through with holes and maggots superimposed over Lola's. Two women who'd been murdered while he watched helplessly, unable to do a thing.

_I can't protect anyone. I watched my mother die in front of me and I watched Lola die in front of me, too. And I wonder why I've never been free…How can someone who can't help someone else govern himself? _Adrián buried his face in his arms as tears began to blur his eyes. The thing laughed again, as if mocking his misery and began to advance towards him, arms swinging pendulously at its sides. He barely noticed when it sat on its haunches in front of him, darting out its forked tongue, which licked across its face, leaving a trail of blood-laced saliva and the stench of decayed meat.

Knowing that it didn't even matter if he were to be killed (_he always came back, always fucking came back)_, Adrián leaned back and prepared for the thing to tear him apart. In a way, it'd be almost cathartic, even if he would come back eventually…

When the anticipated pain didn't come, Adrián opened his eyes. What he saw wasn't the oversized sardonic grin and eyeless gaze of the monster; instead, it was a writhing mass of what appeared to be a series of what could only be described as tentacles. They were like nothing he'd ever seen on a squid or octopus though, being tremendously long and slightly pulsating, as if there was an expansive network of veins pulsing beneath the thin flesh. They were oddly tipped as well, some of them ending in what looked like hooked barbs, others in serrated points and still others in lamprey-like mouths filled with rows of overlapping canines.

They tore at it, or more aptly, through it, the creature letting out a final distorted giggle even as its body twisted and distorted in mid-air, held up by the rubbery appendages. The air itself shuddered for a moment and then, as though it had been caught in a personalized black hole, the monster began to fold in on itself, like a piece of paper crumpled in a fist. More of the tentacles constricted it, covering it completely like a shroud, their handless grip tightening until the monster was crushed into little more than a fine red mist.

There was a slithering sound as they began to retract; sliding wetly towards whatever beast they belonged to and Adrián wondered whether he'd have to deal with another, bigger monstrosity intent on eating him. Following the direction in which the tentacles were slinking he saw that they didn't belong to some other aberration; perhaps more horribly, they were coming from Lola, or rather, the gash from where her torso had been cleaved from her legs.

He looked on in shock as the tentacles withdrew into her body, his terror spiking when she balanced on her palms and jogged towards him on her hands, smiling all the while.

"You…What…How?" Adrián babbled as she laughed at his stunned expression.

"I'll explain in a moment," Lola assured him. "Just let me pull myself together." The words were barely out of her mouth when two crude limbs burst from the hole where her pelvis had formerly been. Adrián had the crazy notion that they looked sort of like rapidly growing plants pushing their way through soil. Sinuous strips of muscle and flesh twined around each other before sealing shut with a hiss and before his bewildered eyes, Lola had completely regrown a new set of legs identical to the ones that had been lopped off during the attack.

Executing a backflip, she landed gracefully on her newly formed feet, looking satisfied. "It's a good thing I chose to wear a dress today, eh?" She asked casually, as though they were discussing the weather. "If not, I'd have to run around with my lower half completely uncovered." She sighed. "If only regeneration extended to knickers."

"Knickers, right," Adrián mumbled before falling over in a dead faint.

Lola scratched her head as she looked confusedly at his prone form. "Was it something I said?"


End file.
